


And Black My Eyes

by okhotnik



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Compliant, Don’t copy to another site, First Time Bottoming, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-The King's Men, after andrew does some soul searching and decides he wants the thing, neil tops for the first time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-06 02:40:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18841951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okhotnik/pseuds/okhotnik
Summary: Once the idea of letting Neil fuck him enters his mind, Andrew can't get it out. After some careful consideration and exploration, they finally give it a try.





	And Black My Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta'd because I'm impatient. I got the idea and couldn't work on what I'm supposed to be writing until I finished it. Let me know about any glaring errors, etc. either here or on tumblr (acquitarte)! Title is from Ohio is for Lovers by Hawthorne Heights (because let's be real - it fits and Andrew definitely listens to HH).

It bubbled up in him - some dark, clawing thing that felt disgustingly like want. Like _need_ . But Andrew didn’t want things, and he certainly didn’t need them. He definitely, _definitely_ didn’t need this. That the thought didn’t cause him nausea, didn’t cause him anything bad at all really only made it worse.

He took a sip of his beer. What he really wanted was a cigarette, but they’d decided months ago to quit. There it was again - they, them, him. Somehow Neil had worked his way into every corner of his mind, and Andrew couldn’t even find it in himself to be upset about it. He took another sip of his beer and stared out at the streetlights below, not really seeing anything.

In the silence, he began to carefully probe this strange, emerging urge. He started at the obvious edge - his bloody, violent history. While many of those memories had been, if not overwritten, pushed aside by his growing body of experiences with Neil, this is one bridge they had not even approached. Neil hadn’t asked, and never would. And he had never mentioned it.

And it could have stayed that way, and things would have been fine. This was unexpected. Unprecedented. He only had one mental framework for _that_ and it was wholly incompatible with anything he might ever choose to do with Neil.

Pulling his phone out of the pocket of his sweatpants, Andrew looked at the time. Neil should have landed in Ohio within the last few minutes. It was a long weekend, the last one before Neil’s final semester ended - he _should_ have been in their apartment, but he was going to try to sign one last sub for the Foxes for next year instead. It would be at least another couple of weeks before Andrew saw him.

His phone buzzed. “ _Landed_ ” was all the message said, but then if Neil was trying to get off the plane, into a car, and keep track of Wymack all at the same time, Andrew couldn’t fault him for being brief. “ _good”_ he sent in return before dropping his phone back into his pocket.

Draining the last of his beer, Andrew retreated inside. He turned on the tv more for background noise than out of any real interest; for the first time in his life, Andrew was functionally alone. It had always been this foster house, or that juvenile facility. He’d always been on his own, even with Cass. But he’d never been truly _alone_ for any real period of time.

And now he woke up alone. Made coffee and ate alone. Went to bed alone. With the exception of his long days at practice, playing, or on the road, he was now left to his own devices. It was terrible. His brain made too much noise without Nicky’s exuberance, Aaron’s griping, the Foxes’ constant back and forth, without _Neil_. Scowling, he flopped on the couch, staring blankly at the game show on tv.

After a few questions, he returned to his mental exploration. As he sifted through his thoughts, he found that the memories of Drake, and Jesse, and Samuel, and Proust, _and_ \- they had taken on a scarred quality. Like a cut that had just lost the scab, still tender but lacking in the same profound sting that it’d had before. Similarly, the gripping feeling of _no_ that flooded him when he forced the recollection did not seem to bleed over when he then pulled up the feeling of Neil’s lips on his neck, his hands in his hair. The thought sent a familiar tingle down his spine and he shifted on the couch, adjusting himself through his sweatpants.

Their encounters had grown easier, with time. First, the kissing, then as they both warmed up, ever intensifying touching until it felt almost natural. Occasionally, they still had false starts, messy fumbles that chanced across buttons neither of them had been aware of. And in those instances, Andrew sulked and soothed his wounds with nicotine and stony silence. Fortunately, Neil’s more aggravating traits were counterbalanced by his impossible understanding that just because he was the one present for the clearing for the minefield did not make him the one at fault.

But once they’d finally figured out how to carefully evade their assorted triggers - mostly his, but a solid several Neil’s, as he’d realized that it was not _always yes_ and that that was ok - once they’d finally figured out how to make it clear from start to finish without either of them retreating to the roof, or the bathroom, or the balcony… Andrew let out a quiet hiss and shifted again. Once he’d accepted that no, Neil wasn’t lying about being fine, that he was actually even better than fine, Andrew had surrendered to the reality where it was _so good_. Every facet had crystallized in his mind, impossibly clear and ready to be replayed again and again. Which was exactly what he did as he slid his hand under the elastic waistband of his pants and lazily stroked himself.

It wasn’t the same, obviously. Nothing was the same as the way Neil opened up for him, trusting Andrew with _yes_ and _more_ , his fingers tight in Andrew’s hair as he’d slowly slid inside, the first time or the several that followed. The smell of his skin recreated itself in the back of Andrew’s throat, a mix of memory and the real, lingering hint in the shirt he had - completely accidentally - forgotten to throw in the laundry before Neil left the last time.

Andrew allowed the wave of remembered sensations to wash over him as he snaked his other hand down the back of his pants. Cautiously, he traced a finger around the puckered ring of muscle. A mix of reflexive panic and something _else_ shot through him. He took a shaky breath and continued, pushing the misplaced sense of danger to the side. There was no one, not even Neil, here with him. So there was nothing real to be concerned about.

He paused for a moment to fish a bottle of lube out of the end table where it had been stored, carefully out of sight but close at hand should things get heated outside of the bedroom, and squirted some onto his fingers. Andrew grabbed the back of one leg of his pants with his toes and gracelessly pulled them down before returning to his new project.

He repressed a shudder, whether from revulsion or pleasure he wasn’t entirely sure, and inched his way deeper. As he did, the image of Neil’s face as he’d pushed inside, the quiet gasp he’d let out, burned itself across the backs of his eyelids. After a few more minutes of self-placation and internal arguments interspersed with a mix of remembered reality and fantasy that was nothing short of pornographic, he’d managed to work three fingers into himself, his other hand curled in a loose fist and acting on muscle memory.

Twisting awkwardly against the couch cushions, Andrew’s fingers just barely brushed the edge of his prostate. Even that faint contact was electric, and once he managed a firmer press he let out a choked groan.

His curiosity satisfied for the moment, he finished himself off quickly. Just as he’d dried his hands, his phone began to buzz again. The insistent vibrations told him he was getting a phone call, and with a huff he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“Hey.” Neil sounded distant and strange across the hundreds of miles. Andrew wasn’t sure if he would ever get used to that.

“Josten,” he responded, his voice rough.

“We just got in the rental. On the way to the court now. How’re things there?” he asked. He didn’t ask outright if Andrew was ok - wouldn’t with Wymack in the car - but the question was there.

“I-” he started, trying to locate the words. He hadn’t anticipated having to come up with his question so quickly. He knew Neil would accept it if he dodged the question, would wait him out until he was ready to talk about it. But he didn’t want that. Not for something as mundane as this. He took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking.”

The silence dragged for a second. He could hear Neil shift the phone to his other shoulder, presumably further away from Wymack. “About?”

“Sex,” he provided, intentionally vague because he knew how Neil would react.

As anticipated, he huffed a quiet laugh. “I know it’s been a while, but I thought you didn’t want anything?” he replied, his tone teasing.

“134%.”

Neil laughed again, “Ok, do you want to be a little more specific?”

“You fucking me. I’m not going to ask now, but think about it.” He knew it was a bit of a leap. Until this new burning urge arose, seemingly from nowhere, Neil even touching his ass without clothing was a no-go. But now…

Neil was quiet for another long moment, finally interrupting his train of thought with “Ok, I will.” He didn’t ask ‘ _are you sure?_ ’ and for that, Andrew was grateful. He had no idea how things would play out when faced with reality.

When he didn’t push the subject further, Neil launched into a quick recap of his flight to Ohio in detail. He let Andrew go with the promise to call him when he got back to PSU.

The next two weeks kept him busy, between practice and the conclusion of the season. He called Bee four times and talked to Robin twice. She was interesting because her perspective was wholly different from Neil’s, which was shocking since they spent most of their time together since Andrew had graduated. She also wanted to know when she could come to visit, since the semester was nearly out.

After some debating, they’d decided that Neil would bring her with him when he drove over, and that she would fly home from there. Andrew found the change of plans both grating and welcome. Though he’d fulfilled the terms of his promise to her, he still felt an odd attachment. It was more akin to what he felt toward Nicky or Aaron than how he felt about Bee or Neil, but that still was something.

And it was only for a few days. He and Neil both had a month before summer practice started, and all of the time in the world beyond that. A few days couldn’t possibly make that much of a difference.

Except after living alone, the sudden reintroduction of two people was more significant than he expected. Something had loosened in his chest the moment he’d heard Neil’s key in the lock, but that had quickly been overshadowed by having to be a person again. Had it only been Neil, the transition would have been easier. Neil knew better than to expect him to behave… normally, for lack of a better way of putting it, by now. A year of living alone hadn’t made it any less weird, but somehow he still had to readjust to living with someone else every time Neil came back. Had to find his way back to the insignificant day to day conversations and decisions: where to eat, what to do, instead of just _doing_.

Throwing Robin into the mix, it felt oddly like a chore. Certainly more difficult. And all of it left Andrew irritable and drained. So for the four days that Robin stayed in their guest room, he forcibly pulled himself together. His edges might have been sharper than normal, but there was no real helping that. They went out to eat, to bars. Watched movies. And talked about more Exy than Andrew had sat through since he left Palmetto State.

But it wasn’t until they pulled back into the apartment complex’s parking lot after dropping Robin at the airport that Andrew could breathe properly again. He made no move to get out of the car, instead letting his head rest against the sculpted seat of the Maserati and his eyes fall closed, and neither did Neil. Instead, they sat there in silence. He could feel Neil’s eyes on him, but it was another moment before he finally said “Staring.” The corners of his mouth almost shifted fractionally upwards. There was so much said, unsaid, understood in that one word.

Instead of responding, Neil gently pried his hand away from the steering wheel. He felt the soft press of lips against his knuckles and blew a long breath out through his nose. Neil trailed kisses around to the underside of his wrist, working his way as far up Andrew’s forearm as he could from the passenger seat. The last was pressed into the thin skin of his elbow; the drag of Neil’s lips so slow that he shuddered involuntarily.

“Out,” he managed. He didn’t wait for a response before he unbuckled his seat belt and pulled himself out of the car. Andrew had made it to the passenger side by the time Neil finally got out. As soon as the door shut, he crowded Neil’s space, searching his eyes in silent question before he finally took Neil’s face in his hands and crushed their mouths together.

Juxtaposed against the tenderness Neil had met him with in the car, the force they both put behind the kiss was staggering. Andrew was almost certain that, if he moved just slightly closer, pressed up against Neil, that he would already be hard. His own pulse thundered in his throat like some wild thing threatening to break loose.

Neil broke the kiss first, moving to mouth along Andrew’s jaw to his neck. The sound of a door slamming somewhere across the parking lot made them jump apart. Neil laughed. Andrew didn’t. They retreated to the apartment without another word between them. He would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the quiet.

Neil heated up leftover pasta and Andrew leaned against the counter and watched him. While they ate, Neil talked about juggling his new teams. He hadn’t told Neil yet that he’d received another call from the Court. For the second year in a row, they’d made him an offer. But only after Neil had also signed on. It would put him back on a court with both Neil and Kevin. He knew he would end up accepting, but he wanted to at least pretend to think about it first.

But more than that, now that Neil was back, he’d had other things on his mind. Like the feel of Neil’s mouth on his skin, the familiar weight of his body next to his own. Under the small dining table, Neil nudged his knee with his own. He didn’t ask _are you ok?_ \- Neil just met his gaze, talk of Exy brought to a halt. Leaning forward, Andrew wrapped his hand around the back of Neil’s neck, resting their foreheads against each other. They both breathed in the silence, neither in a hurry to move now that it was just the two of them.

Eventually they broke apart again in favor of watching bad television and eating ice cream. They sprawled easily across the leather couch they’d bought together almost one year ago, after finally settling on an apartment.

Darkness settled like a heavy blanket outside. The sticky heat of early summer was held at bay by new windows and air conditioning. Andrew moved to the balcony, leaving the door open behind him so Neil could follow. He leaned against the railing and stared into nothing. He didn’t have to look over to know that Neil had mirrored his position, just barely not touching him. They had only done this - without the excuse of cigarettes - a few times. But it was nice to just be, sometimes. Somehow he hadn’t grown bored of Neil yet ( _ever_ a voice in the back of his mind said), and Neil kept coming back.

After Neil stifled a yawn, then a second, they went inside. They took turns showering and getting ready for bed before climbing into the king sized bed they shared. There was only one nightstand in the room, on Neil’s side of the bed. Andrew’s side was still pushed against the wall, far opposite the door. It was the same general pattern they’d followed every night they were in the same place, but unlike the past few nights where they’d crawled into bed and fallen asleep in a casual tangle of limbs, the air was thick with tension.

They met in the middle of the bed, facing each other on their sides. Neil carefully hooked an ankle behind his knee as Andrew gripped Neil’s hip, pulling him in closer. He caught Neil’s mouth in a biting kiss that shot a spike of heat straight to his groin. Slowly, Neil pushed his shoulder back toward the bed until he was leaning over him. Andrew allowed himself to be moved, increasingly pliant after years of careful practice. He obligingly tilted his chin up, giving Neil the space to mouth and bite down his throat. With a quiet groan, he shifted against the mattress.

“Why did you put clothes on in the first place?” he asked. In reply, Neil smiled against the thin skin behind his ear before tracing the curve of his ear with his bottom lip. Andrew’s blood was suddenly too hot in his veins. His pulse was too strong - he craved more. It had been months since he’d gotten Neil alone, since he’d gotten more than a quick kiss.

He rolled them both back toward Neil’s side of the bed, straddling Neil’s hips. He did not hold Neil’s hands above his head where he couldn’t touch - it was both no longer necessary and something they had both discovered rather understandably put Neil in an entirely different mood. Instead, Neil’s hands rested easily on Andrew’s knees. His body was loose and malleable as Andrew kissed him with renewed intensity.

“Yes or no?” Andrew asked, sitting back to give Neil space to respond. It had been long enough since the question had been directly asked - since there had been anything new to ask about. But the conversation was clearly still as present in Neil’s mind as it was in his own, because he didn’t ask for clarification.

Neil’s pupils were blown wide in the dim light of the lamp beside them, his cheeks flushed a shade of pink that Andrew was familiar with. As soon as he got an impatient ‘yes’ from Neil, he kissed him hard. Hands slipped under hems of shirts to greedily claim tracts of warm skin as they rocked against each other, almost too hungry to push off their desire.

Finally, shirts had been discarded to the floor. They were tangled up again, mouths now bitten red after so many weeks apart. Neil’s chest was mottled the same pink as his cheeks, patchy around his scars.

It wouldn’t be hard, with how worked up he already was - they both were - for Andrew to take him apart. And part of him longed to, but more than that was the consuming urge to finally let Neil be on the other end of the experience. To get to be on the receiving end himself, for the first time that he actually wanted it.

“Get these off,” he said, tugging at the waistband of Neil’s pajama pants. He climbed off of his lap to rifle through the drawer of the nightstand for the lube and condoms he knew were in there. Only the lube was strictly necessary. They had both been tested and everything was, shockingly, thankfully, fine after everything they’d been through. But it made cleaning up easier, and Andrew still wasn’t positive that he wanted to add the feeling of come leaking out of him to what was already likely to be a trying experience.

After he dropped both on the nightstand, Andrew pulled his own pants off, leaving them in a messy pile on the floor. Neil looked at him, mock judgment on his face before he cracked a smile and tugged on Andrew’s hand. He allowed himself to be pulled back to the bed, returning to his previous position over Neil.

Without the trappings of pants in the way, they rubbed against each other turning their breaths into ragged gasps against each other’s skin.

“Do you want to, or do you want me to...?” Neil asked, nodding toward the lube.

Andrew sat back on his heels, considering. He had thought about both options, but had never quite made it to a conclusion. Now faced with the moment, it seemed obvious. If he couldn’t handle Neil’s fingers, how was he supposed to manage anything else? “You should do it,” he finally said aloud.

Neil nodded again and swiped the bottle off of the nightstand. Andrew watched as he carefully squeezed some onto his fingers, rubbing them together both to spread the lube and warm it. It was something he’d watched Andrew do numerous times, but he wasn’t certain if he’d ever done it himself. He knew Neil had never had any reason to when they’d been together - Andrew had always done it, since Neil had never expressed any urge in opening himself up and he had no reason to have him do it.

But in a way, that inexperience was comforting. The lack of practice conveyed an honesty that made Andrew more certain of his decision. He kissed Neil again, causing him to let out a surprised ‘mmf’ sound.

“Ok, how do you want to do this?” Neil asked.

He forced out a sharp breath through his nose. He wasn’t sure if he would ever stop appreciating how Neil just _asked_ these things. “Like this, I think.” He gestured between their current positions.

Neil’s dick twitched involuntarily against his own as he hummed in acceptance. They both shuddered at the contact - it had been too long since they’d had time for even this.

Andrew shifted to give Neil better access. He felt his entire body tense reflexively before Neil even touched him, but immediately willed himself to relax. Neil paused, hand outstretched, watching him.

“Andrew,” he said quietly, his face painfully open and his hand not moving either way. “Yes or no? Do you want me to keep going?”

He said “Josten,” where someone else might have said ‘ _please, yes, god, fuck me,’_ his voice too rough, too tender. To save himself from having to provide a lengthier answer right away, he instead leaned forward to kiss Neil again.

Finally, he said “Yes, I’m sure,” against Neil’s lips. Aloud, it sent a weird thrill down his spine. He rolled his hips against Neil’s, grinding them together, almost without meaning to. The degree to which he yearned for this threw him wholly off kilter. But he wasn’t interested in fighting it. Not anymore.

Leaning back once more, he gave Neil the space needed to touch him, and only sucked in a sharp breath when Neil’s fingers stroked faintly from his tailbone to his balls. Instead of commenting on Neil’s unwavering gaze, he shut his own eyes, instead trusting the feel of Neil’s scars under his fingertips. By now, he knew their shape as well as he knew his own reflection.

In the gentle contact, he felt both Neil’s inexperience in this and his honest desire not to hurt him. A small part of him raged at being considered so fragile, but the larger, smarter part knew it to be a good thing. As the contact pushed beyond gentle stroking to a more pointed probing, Andrew had to remind his body once more that this was something he was choosing to do.

After another finger and a few careful minutes - of _too slow, too much, too little_ \- Neil’s fingertips ghosted over the edge of his prostate and Andrew nearly threw himself off of the bed. He wanted to never feel a physical sensation again that wasn’t _that_. And for the first time, it wasn’t a betrayal by his own body.

Andrew opened his eyes again. He wanted to hit something. Wanted a cigarette. Wanted Neil to be inside of him already. Wanted it to never stop. And consciously, he knew it hadn’t even started. Not yet. Neil was still lying beneath him, a faint sheen of sweat reflecting the light of the lamp and his dick hard enough that Andrew thought it might be considered a medical concern.

Neil slid his fingers out to add more lube, but Andrew caught his wrist. “No, wait,” he started, causing Neil to freeze immediately. He grabbed the condom wrapper and ripped it open. “I’m ready,” he explained. It had the intended result of changing Neil’s expression of concern to something more appropriate.

“Are you sure?” he still asked. Because he wouldn’t be Neil and they wouldn’t be doing this otherwise.

“Yeah.” He rolled the condom down the full length of Neil’s cock, watching his face the entire time. When he was done, Neil smeared the lube on his fingers on himself, then squirted some more on his fingers to make sure Andrew was equally ready. Once they were both set, he nodded at Andrew.

Andrew took a long breath before he moved again, shifting up onto his knees and using one hand to line Neil up. At the second breath, he willed his body to relax again, warring with the heady mix of nerves and excitement that threatened to ruin his self-control.

At the third, he finally began to sink slowly down, his breath catching in his throat. He exhaled shakily as the tip cleared the ring of muscle. He still felt impossibly tight, but he wasn’t sure if anything else could have made it any easier.

Once he managed to get halfway down, he pulled back to the tip. Judging by the look on Neil’s face, that alone was nearly enough to get him off. Andrew paused for a moment, giving them both time to collect themselves, before he began his second slow descent.

After what felt like an eternity of glacial movement, Andrew was finally fully seated. He took a moment to take stock; careful consideration told him that nothing was wrong. The only thing throwing him off was that he actually seemed to be fine with this, after everything.

He realized that Neil’s hands were fisted in the sheets several inches away from his knees on either side. Neil’s pupils were blown wide, his whole body clearly fighting the urge to move. He found himself confronted by another feeling that was uncomfortable if only for how good it was. Without even being told, Neil somehow continued to know the exact right response.

Leaning forward to claim Neil’s mouth again, Andrew experimentally rocked his hips. The movement sent a delicious rush up his spine and pulled a whimper from Neil’s throat. “You can touch,” he said, lips still scant inches from Neil’s. “Just–" he paused, trying to find the right words. But Neil understood. His hands gently wandered over Andrew’s thighs, ghosted over his hips, traced his ribs, all without ever grabbing. Without ever pulling, or moving the rest of his body. No part of the contact was inherently sexual – just impossibly intimate and tender. Andrew kissed him again, hard, for that before sitting back up and trying to find a suitable rhythm.

Neil wasn’t going to last long, and Andrew was still in a strange limbo where he wasn’t sure if he was going to come too fast or not at all. He could tell that Neil was trying not to dig his fingers in, not to leave even temporary marks. A part of him wanted to break that control, to take him apart this way too. But unbidden came memories of Proust, of Drake. A wave of nausea brought him to a stuttering halt.

The frustrated whine that came from Neil brought him back to the present, and the moment was over as quickly as it had arrived. Returning to his previous pace, Andrew leaned back down to kiss Neil again, to assure him that everything was ok. Neil gently threaded his fingers through Andrew’s hair, tilting his head to the side in order to mouth across his jaw and down his neck.

As Neil scraped his teeth over the vein at the base of Andrew’s throat, his movements faltered once again, for a wholly different reason. Out of nowhere, he felt the familiar pressure as it peaked at the base of his spine.

“Neil,” he managed, voice breaking as he tightened reflexively around the base of Neil’s dick. Their mouths found each other in a clash of lips and teeth. Andrew ground down hard against Neil and felt the start of his climax before Neil even seemed to realize what was happening. The feeling of Neil pulsing in side of him broke the last barrier of his restraint. For a moment, his vision went fuzzy. He wasn’t sure where Neil’s orgasm stopped and his started, the sensations were so tangled.

When he became fully aware of himself again, he was laying against Neil’s chest, his arms wrapped loosely around his back. He was sore, though less so than he’d ever been previously. The most notable difference from past experience was the strange warmth that filled him, where prior circumstances had at best left him numb, and at worst drowning in sick dread and pain.

“Hey,” Neil said in quiet warning before taking himself in one hand and pulling out (something else that Andrew was certain he had to have learned from himself).

Andrew only grunted in acknowledgement, and made no move to relocate himself. Neil blindly tugged off the condom, and Andrew felt his arms moved as he tied it off behind his back then tossed it in the direction of the trash can.

 

They settled into an easy silence in spite of the sticky mess between them. Another shower would be in order, but for once Andrew wasn’t in any hurry to disappear, to wash off every trace of what had just happened to him. For once, he was just good. He pressed his lips to Neil’s throat in a half-formed kiss and let his eyes fall shut.


End file.
